


A Constant State of Craig Tucker

by tunnah



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Based off A Constant State of Ohio, Craig Tucker Needs a Hug, I don't want to give too much away, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religiousness Is There Somewhat, The OC isn't important at all to the story, new tag, so much goddamn angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 02:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunnah/pseuds/tunnah
Summary: Craig Tucker's mind was a plague, his entire inner workings were a cesspool of self hatred and regrets.The only good part? His sister and his sunshine.Tweek Tweak.





	1. Saint Bernard

**Author's Note:**

> Make me love myself, so that I might love you.
> 
> Trigger warnings: self-depreciation, religious talk.
> 
> Also, I would like to state before the story starts that Craig's family is apart of the Catholic church and Craig himself does not hold a high opinion for the religion or God. It in no way reflects on my own beliefs on religion or God. If you are easily offended by religion being viewed by a character in a negative way, I suggest you do not read the story. Or at least the first half of the chapter.

Craig dragged his feet, walking toward the very house he often passed by. It seemed innocent enough, for a boy to walk by a house in his neighborhood, but he knew that there were other reasons he wished to stroll by the house. Tweek Tweak was the problem, a very large problem that permeated his mind and controlled him without even knowing it. It was the innocence, that pure unaltered devotion to him that knew would be his inevitable demise. Tweek didn’t know, in fact, he would never know about the dreams that made him awake with soiled sheets and a shame he couldn’t process completely.

 

The house was empty, Craig knew, it was almost five in the afternoon on a Sunday. The coffeeshop the Tweak’s owned was undoubtably crowded with teenagers studying hard for their finals that were coming up the next day. Senior year was bittersweet on Craig’s tongue, but it wasn’t the biggest problem in his life. His feet were guiding him to the problems that were on hand as he continued down the street. Pulling his jacket closer to himself, he felt the overwhelming urge to turn around and find comfort in the small coffeeshop and all its eccentrics.

 

Blue eyes gazed ahead, uninterested as he came to the familiar grey house and basked in the conservative nature of it. He didn’t know what he had expected when he first arrived at the house four months back, but he was starting to grow restless every time he came to the front door. Numb fingers knocked on the door, Craig simply tried to pretend his heart wasn’t dropping to the pit of his stomach as he schooled his expression to monotonous. It was as if Craig was an actor and every Sunday night was his time to give the performance of his life.

 

The dog howled to life at the noise of Craig’s presence, but it wasn’t long before he was face to face with the man who was his only audience member to his grand production. Father John was a prude man, his eyes often looked more scrutinizing than kind to Craig, and he was not much taller than the eighteen-year-old before him. There was a forced smile appearing on the older man’s features as he saw the boy, and Craig reacted with a false smile of his own as he nodded in greeting.

 

“Ah, Craig Tucker, time already?” The rhetorical question seemed to leave Father John’s mouth before he even realized it, “Come on in and have a seat in my office, I was just getting Gus’ dinner ready.”

 

As if knowing he was being talked about, the large Saint Bernard trotted over, his barks quieted to a mere woof every now and again as Craig went through the threshold. Crosses bared on the wall with religious pictures scattered the living space, it was something that should have burnt Craig to ash as soon as he entered the holy house. It didn’t take long for the boy to know that God didn’t take pity on the damned like that, instead He taunted and dragged on the inevitable doom of the lost. Legs moving before his mind processed it, Craig found himself going up the stairs to where the Father’s office was.

 

It wasn’t Craig’s want to be here, instead it was his mother who encouraged him to go see the Father of their church one-on-one, as if that would save her son. She didn’t know everything, Craig kept it under lock and key, but he assumed that his prior recklessness unsettled her deeply. Even though the meetings always caused panic and dismay in the brunet, he refused to let down his family again. He doubted he could knowingly disappoint more people than he already had in his past. Finding his seat in the cushioned chair in front of the desk, he anxiously waited as his leg bounced up and down in anticipation.

 

Before long, Father John found his way into the office space which kept Craig’s racing mind from straying too far from himself. As the appearance of the man caused a switch to flip, his posture straightening out and his leg ceasing movement as he watched the man carefully for whatever movements he made. The elder man took his seat at the oak desk, his leather swivel chair making an audible creak at the force. Father John was undoubtably playing his own game as he quietly skimmed through the Bible already opened at the desk.

 

“Now, Craig, how has your week been? Your finals are coming up I heard, are you studying alright?” The question was to test the waters undoubtably, to see where the younger’s mind was at. He refused to make the same mistakes as he had when he first started appearing before the man in private.

 

“It’s been good,” he lied, his eyes scanning the pictures that sat behind the Father. The men were all previous Father’s, all holier than Craig and staring down at him as if they knew that fact themselves. “That’s what the last week has been, just reviewing and being given study guides. It’s been easy enough.”

 

“Very good,” Father John said, pointing to the text that was before him, his eyes meeting Craig’s, “Now, I think I know just the thing that will bring some comfort to you. _The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is safe._ ”

 

Craig wished he could have laughed at the words. He no longer held the ability to run to God, he could hardly be considered righteous or feel safe. His skin crawled as he adjusted himself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the silence that overtook the conversation as Father John and he continued to blankly stare at each other. It was how their hour long session normally went, with Craig being shown the way to righteousness and retribution but only thinking of how badly he wished he could escape the confines of the office that he was crammed into. The holy men that surrounded the room simply stared at him, a mix of pity and disgust in their eyes. Craig knew the truth and knew what the looks really meant.

 

“Craig, how are your _thoughts_ recently?” The question was placed on the table lightly, as if talking to someone who didn’t have the capacity to fully understand what Father John was truly asking. _How is your sin? Have you found God and truly made Him apart of your life?_ It set Craig’s teeth on edge as he continued to look at the scrutinizing man. He refused to show weakness, refused to show the truth as he cleared his throat that was becoming increasingly tight as the seconds passed.

 

“I have not been having any impure thoughts, Father,” he comforted ( _lied_ ), “I have been getting better since I have sought your guidance.”

 

He refuted the idea of blonde hair or sparkling forest green eyes that appeared in his head, or the way the stuttering voice that drifted through his dreams at night always managed to melt his heart. They were thoughts that were supposed to plague his mind when he couldn’t find sleep, the kind of thoughts that then plagued his dreams once he found his mind allowing him a few hours of rest, and the kind of thoughts that left him feeling both full and empty at the same time. It was as if his mind had created a paradise that his reality could only yearn for when the rest of the world was asleep. In the center of his paradise was a boy who smelt of coffee and anxiously twitched at everything. Craig knew from the moment he met Tweek that his life was fucked.

 

“The boy you first talked about when we met, have you resolved anything with him?”

 

It was enough to make Craig recoil into his chair slightly, his charade slipping as he stared almost uncertainly at the Father. The truth of the matter was that he had never said Tweek’s name out loud, because if he did then he felt as if he would be condemning both of them to the same fate. Craig already knew that his demonic nature was his own to bear, his thoughts of sin and lust were branded into his mind so he would never slip up and give away what he knew he couldn’t.

 

“I have stayed away from him,” Craig spoke up once he found his voice again, “I knew it would only be harder for me to control my urges if I stayed around him too often.”

 

All Craig Tucker knew how to do was lie through his teeth, his entire life was slowly transforming to a circus act and he almost couldn’t keep his stories straight. He was the master of deceit to everyone he talked to. The only reason he truly confessed to his homosexual tendencies to the Father of their congregation was because he didn’t know if his mother had told the man about his internet history that she stumbled upon when she borrowed his laptop the previous summer. It was a mortifying and humiliating experience, but he swore to his mother that he was only curious, and it meant nothing to him. From that day on, he kept his porn browsing to an incognito tab as a safety precaution.

 

“Well, that is very smart of you, boy. You are taking steps in truly taking hold of your own life and not letting Satan rule over your stay on earth. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of space away from the boy when you go off to university. Your mother spoke about how you were accepted into Colorado University, that’s a little bit of a drive.”

 

“Yes,” he said, knowing what he did would separate him enough from the world around him and allow him to actually focus on himself and not just his outward appearance, “I thought that picking a university farther away would be best for myself. I can see what life is like.”

 

“Now, Craig, don’t forget what His word says, _do not put the Lord your God to the test_. He will not allow temptation to happen to you that you cannot withstand, but you must be able to realize what is temptation and what is not. Do not stray from the path that He has made for you.” Father John’s eyes pierced through him, a knowing gaze to it, and it had mortified Craig to the core.

 

Craig nodded in understanding, like a pathetic dog agreeing to anything its owner said because he would be accepted because of that. It was all Craig was, a boy who strived from approval and acceptance in a world where he felt he couldn’t find any, not even within himself. Perhaps if he managed to get approval from Father John, it would make him feel like he could also approve of himself. He wanted the world around him to love him so maybe he could know what loving himself truly felt like.

 

“Now, is there anything else that we need to speak about? I have busy schedule this summer, I’m afraid this may be out last visit together before you go of to university. Oh, to be youthful again,” Father John said with a crooked smile on his face. His hand went to close the Bible, and Craig felt nothing but relief to know that he could finally leave, but at the same time it left him hallow. There was no time it seemed, never enough time to simply live and thrive.

 

“No, Father, I thank you for taking the time out of your schedule these last few months to meet with me,” Craig respectfully said, holding back the biting comment on how it had helped him none. How it only caused him to become more introspective and realize how little he admired or enjoyed about himself. Was that how everyone that surrounded him also felt?

 

“Anything for a fellow child of God, you are His child, Craig. Do not forget that. Shall we say a prayer before we end?” It was another rhetorical question, one that Craig only nodded his head to, because there was no way to deny such a request. Craig feared he didn’t have a say in any matter when it was about God.

 

The prayer was as heartfelt as any other prayer Father John could conjure up out of thin air. It seemed as if the man knew exactly what to say to cut Craig deep during the few minutes it took to say the prayer, to almost belittle his problems and his sins. There was nothing the brunet could say, though, for it was all true. He was sin, had it embroidered into his mind and heart, it wasn’t as painful to carry such a weight after dealing with it for so long.

 

Before long, Craig was finding himself being led out of the house and the door was being closed after formal goodbyes were put into the air. Suddenly, just as every other time, as the warmth from the house left, Craig found the warmth within himself also dissipating as if it relied completely on Father John. Instead of dwelling on the lingering sensation of helplessness, he completed his Sunday routine.

 

Walking toward the heart of town, which wasn’t far in South Park, his eyes saw the brightly lit shop he frequented once a week with the allowance his mother gave him. He tried not to think of her broken hearted face from that night almost a year ago, tried not to dwell on the fact that he was the only thing stopping himself from being holy like the men who were posted on the walls of that office he was all too familiar with. The doorbell chimed as he entered, and he swore that any sort of insecurity or fear was left outside as he entered the space.

 

“Craig!” The too familiar voice spoke, cracking at the end as if the boy wasn’t used to speaking as much as he did during the weekends. Craig’s eyes immediately went to the radiating sun that was perched behind the counter. Selfishly, he took in the fact that tonight it was only Tweek and him.

 

“Hey Tweek, slow night?” Craig played it cool, trying to keep some of the nasal tone out of his voice as he approached the counter.

 

“W-well, not really, I mean – if you were here earlier this afternoon, _gah_ , it felt like it would never end! I know finals are tomorrow, but sheesh, people need to know it’s way too much pressure for them all to come here!” Tweek said, hands fiddling with the rag that was clenched in his fists.

 

( _Craig wished those fists were clenched in his hair as he --_ )

 

“Have you finished the final project for Mr. Dicks’ class?” Craig asked, so very thankful that Tweek couldn’t read his mind. It was hard enough intentionally putting himself through this for the chance to even get Tweek to smile. It seemed his question caused the exact opposite reaction as Tweek groaned and rested his head on the countertop.

 

“No,” the blonde muttered sheepishly, peering up at Craig from the wild locks of hair that were attached to his head, “I completely forgot about it! Why do we have a final presentation for a _speech_ class? I thought seniors took that class so that there wouldn’t be a final!”

 

“It’s just a presentation about our favorite movie, Tweek, you can come up with a speech for Aladdin before Tuesday,” Craig said, trying to calm the naturally neurotic blonde.

 

“Easy for you to say! Mr. Dicks loves you! I can’t help that I fumble over my words, public speaking is just so much pressure!” Tweek exclaimed, and Craig was just so thankful that the other didn’t find it weird that he knew his favorite movie off the top of his head. Craig also knew Clyde, Token, and Jimmy’s favorite movies, so maybe it wasn’t as odd as he was fretting it might be.

 

“Then don’t public speak,” Craig said, “just look at me when you’re doing it. Tell me about Aladdin, Tweek.”

 

Tweek lifted his head, looking contemplative for a moment before he decided to open his mouth. Craig wasn’t really paying attention as the blonde talked, not at the words themselves, but simply found himself being enamored by the way the boy kept going on about something he enjoyed. He found himself trailing off in his thought, thinking of a different world where maybe they were walking in a park and Tweek was telling him all about his day while they held hands. Something simple, domestic, something that was so far unattainable.

 

“ _Gah_ , Craig, you’re a genius!” That was what brought Craig out of his daydream of coffee tasting kisses and summertime ice creams, his eyes focused on the pure glee that was on Tweek’s face. “I mean, if you sit in the middle of the class for the final, I’ll definitely be able to make it seem like I’m looking at everyone and not just you.”

 

“You just have to make it easy on yourself, b- Tweek,” Craig said, fumbling over his words as he felt the heat creep up onto the tips of his ears. That kind of a slip-up was not able to happen, not when they were having the kind of moment that Craig had only hoped for in his dreams.

 

“Yeah,” Tweek said, standing up straighter with his small victory. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot! What can I get you? Want your usual?”

 

Craig blanked for a moment before he remembered that they were in the Tweak’s coffeeshop and not in the imaginary park. “Uh, yeah. That’d be good.” His hand went to his wallet, pulling out the ten dollars he saved every week special for Tweek. “You can keep the change.”

 

“Craig, for the last time, this isn’t Harbucks! We don’t cost an arm and a leg for a vanilla chai!” Tweek scrambled with the register, but still went to put the five dollars in change into the tip jar. It had been almost a year since Tweek really fought Craig to keep his money instead of giving it essentially to Tweek himself.

 

“You can pay me back by making sure you pass the final Tuesday,” Craig said, watching Tweek put the milk into the metal container along with the vanilla chai powder. The boy responded while the steamer whirled to life, but it had even caused the blonde to blush, so Craig simply let it go. He didn’t want Tweek to think he was adding to the pressure that the boy already had in his life. Craig wished that people would be as considerate for him but let the thought pass. It wasn’t the place or time for him to worry about it.

 

“So, where is Craig Tucker going after he graduates?” Tweek asked, the pink still beautifully dusting the pale skin of his face. Craig yearned to touch but knew that he was tainted. How could something as perfect as Tweek Tweak allow him to touch him? It was off limits.

 

“Well,” Craig said as he watched the blonde pour the hot chai into the paper cup and secure the lid, “I got accepted into Colorado University, so that’s what I’m doing I guess.”

 

“Oh, congrats!” Tweek said, and Craig almost swore there was a tinge of something in his voice he couldn’t place, but before he could question it, Tweek spoke again. “What are you going to study there?”

 

“I wanted to do astronomy or some shit,” he started, leaning against the counter as he gratefully accepted the chai, “but I don’t know how practical that would be. I was thinking something like pharmaceuticals or physical therapy or whatever. I’m going in kind of blind.”

 

“Hey, don’t think about it that way! You get to get out of South Park, that’s totally, _gah_ , awesome. Like-like, you can study whatever you want over there,” Tweek said.

 

“What about you?”

 

“What?”

 

“What are you going to do when you graduate, Tweek Tweak?” Craig clarified, smirking slightly as he shot back the same question to the blonde.

 

“Well, uh, I mean, you’re looking at it! My dad wants me to take over the business when he retires, so, you know. He’s going to take me under his wing and show me more of the business side of running a coffeeshop when I graduate. They are making plans to open another store somewhere else, like Denver or something, so I might go and be a manager there when my dad thinks I can, _gah_ , do it. It’s just- “

 

“Too much pressure?”

 

“Yes!” Tweek squawked as his hands found themselves wringing the rag once more.

 

“Well, at least you have more of an idea about what you’re doing with your life than me.”

 

“Hardly! I just know what my dad wants me to do. Not that, you know, I’m not grateful he loves me enough to be able to give me his business, but, it’s like I wasn’t even asked about it before he decided it!”

 

“You love coffee, I’m sure you’ll do fine, Tweek,” Craig said, offering him an encouraging smile.

 

“I’m going to miss you,” Tweek suddenly blurted out, his eyes going wide as if he didn’t expect himself to admit that out loud. It caused Craig to be caught off guard, his heart skipping a beat as he was inwardly congratulating himself for such an accomplishment. Tweek Tweak, his sun, the light in the dark abyss of his life, confessed he would miss him.

 

“I’m going to miss you too,” Craig said, leaving off the long monologue of him telling Tweek exactly how much he was going to miss him because it would honestly just ruin the mood. Tweek Tweak wasn’t going to be corrupted by Craig Tucker and that was final. “But you have my number, we can always text each other.”

 

“My hands are too jittery to text right, my thumbs have such a mind of their own for even spell check to know what I’m saying,” Tweek whined, huffing out. Craig knew exactly what he was talking about, by the few times a week they would text each other, sometimes Craig had to call Tweek to even know what the jittery blonde was saying.

 

“I’ll make sure to get better at unscrambling words so I can decode it easier,” Craig said, looking at the clock behind Tweek to see that he was about an hour late from when his parents assumed he’d be back from Father John’s. Tweek’s eyes followed his to gaze at the clock.

 

“Oh no, it’s already almost closing! I haven’t done literally any of my dishes!” Tweek cried out, his hand going to grasp at his hair. Craig felt his fingers twitch, wanting to take the blonde’s hands out of his hair, but Craig Tucker was a master at holding back.

 

“Well, sounds like I should get going then,” Craig said with a small smile as he started to back away from the counter. “Don’t worry about your texts, if I don’t understand you, I’ll just call you anyways. I’ll miss your voice.”

 

Craig almost couldn’t believe the words had left his mouth, it only caused him to quickly rush out of the coffeeshop before Tweek could even reply. He didn’t look back to see if there was confusion or disgust in the blonde’s eyes as he quickly moved back to his house.

 

He unlocked the front door to his house, finding his mother watching whatever reality TV show was on as he put his house keys into the basket by the front door and locked the door after him.

 

“Oh, Jeffrey is definitely going home!” His mother exclaimed, her body leaning closer to the TV as she was hanging off every word the reality host was saying. Craig sighed quietly as he started his ascent up the stairs to his room where he could lock out the world.

 

As he made it to the top, he was met with his father who stared at him for a moment before he noticed the cup in his hand.

 

“Decided to go to Tweak’s Coffeehouse after your session?” The gruff man questioned, and if anyone could make Craig’s blood run cold by a simple inquiry it was his father.

 

“Yeah, I like their drinks,” Craig said, tone bored and aloof as he stood a bit taller. He needed to show his father he was a man, a man who couldn’t be pushed around like he so easily was when he was younger.

 

“They make good coffee,” his father responded with as much apathy back to him before he shrugged his son off and walked back down the stairs to probably be with his wife.

 

Craig felt like he couldn’t breathe until he heard his mother expressing what was going on in the show she was watching to her husband. Closing his eyes for a moment, he walked toward his room but paused when he saw his sister’s bedroom door open. Peering in, he saw Tricia was painting her toenails an obnoxious shade of lime green. It was as if she could feel eyes on her as she looked over to her brother.

 

“You look like shit, want me to paint your nails?” She questioned, motioning her to mountain of nail polish that she had on top of her bed. Obviously, his sister wasn’t the most decisive girl he had ever met.

 

He wordlessly shut the door to her room and locked it before he took a seat on her bed. Tricia was a lot of things – annoying, obnoxious, and slightly narcissistic at times – but she was the only one who even seemed to be okay with who he was. She never tried to change him.

 

“What did you get this time?” She asked, pointing toward the cup with her rainbow-colored nails. Instead of waiting for a response, she simply took the cup from him and took a sip of the liquid before she grinned happily. “Your Tweek makes some good ass coffee.”

 

“It’s a vanilla chai, it doesn’t have any coffee in it, brat,” Craig sighed, “and he isn’t _mine_. Now you’re only painting my toes, because I think mom might pass out if I come outside with painted fingernails.”

 

“You’re no fun,” Tricia whined as she finished her pinkie toe.

 

It was how Craig finished his nights, finding himself taking comfort in the only person who seemed to withstand him being what he wanted to be. Tricia went to work finding a deep red polish in her pile of nail polishes. She had put down the base coat before she made eyes with her older brother.

 

“How did it go?”

 

“As good as anyone else expects it to go. I’m cured, I’m _sooooo_ happy,” Craig deadpanned, looking at the way his sister sighed sadly before breaking their eye contact.

 

“It’s not fair.”

 

“Life isn’t fair.”

 

“Whose nails am I going to paint when you leave at the end of summer? I’m going to have to make friends at this rate, Craig.”

 

“What a terrible thought,” Craig agreed, laughing humorlessly as he looked out into the quickly darkening sky.

 

“I need help with my biology final after this.”

 

“You have the man for the job.”

 

Tricia hummed, attempting to smile back at Craig. He didn’t return the gesture. The only good thing that he had, and he could hardly stomach the idea of leaving it to go away. The good was far overwhelmed with the bad, though, and he knew that his sister was obnoxious enough to never stop texting him when he left.

 

Craig took a deep breath as he watched his sister finish painting his nails. Maybe it was time for a new beginning for him. God be damned and let himself live a little when he finally got to university life.

 

(At twelve fifteen in the morning the following Wednesday, Craig’s phone vibrated. He was still awake, trying to occupy his mind by watching space documentaries to keep all his thoughts from racing out of control. He was surprised that any of his friends were awake, especially since they had school bright and early the next morning to finish off their senior careers and become their own people.

 

_i fot anm a!_

Tweek.

 

Craig smiled dreamily as he stared at his phone for way too long before he responded.

 

_I didn’t even need to translate it, I told you that you could do it._

Not even a second later he got a response.

 

_bc of u_

Craig’s heart skipped a beat before he simply left the message alone. It was a good moment, he didn’t want to interrupt it.)


	2. Smokey Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not what all my idols told me college would be like...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back again.
> 
> Triggers: Alcohol/Substance Abuse, references to assault, more self loathing as always

It took Craig Tucker one week to meet his match, someone who held the darkness of night within themselves that could rival his own. Stan Marsh with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes that held nothing but critique, but still had a smile that Craig would kill a man for. They were fucked up, but they were fucked up together in the new life they found themselves in.

 

Craig knew Stan back in elementary school, before the boy left with his mother and sister to Denver after their parents divorced. It was as if they both held some familiarity from their childhood that kept them glued together. They were never friends back then, Stan’s friends being too troublesome for Craig to bother being around when he was a child.

 

Two weeks into the first semester of university before Craig found himself standing awkwardly in Stan’s dorm. He found himself envious of the fact that the other didn’t have a roommate, where Craig’s own roommate ate Cheetos in bed and decided to wear tight shirts and boxers that did nothing but accentuate the roundness of his body. Every time Craig went to his dorm room, he only found himself more and more annoyed by the presence of his lazy roommate.

 

“You want one?” Stan inquired, having opened the minifridge that was set up where the other bed would have been if he had a roommate. He was holding out a beer. Craig didn’t see any problem with it, knowing that plenty of people their age did drink, he had even been to his fair share of parties back in South Park. There was something unsettling about how past the boy crouched in front of the fridge he saw nothing put liquor and alcohol packed.

 

“Yeah,” Craig said instead of worrying about Stan’s own stability at the knowledge of the contents of the fridge. It wasn’t his place to dictate what Stan did or didn’t do with his life.

 

They drank their first bottle in silence, lounging on the full-sized mattress. Craig tried not to think about how Stan’s legs were pressed right next to his own, or the fact that they nudged at his own as if suggesting something. It unsettled Craig, set his heart to pound erratically as he glanced over at the other. Blue eyes like ice offered little understanding into the situation, but the smirk that consumed the almost sickeningly pale skin shown what little light there was on the subject. The stir in Craig’s pants went ignored by his own stubbornness as he finished his drink in one large gulp.

 

“You haven’t changed much from when we were kids,” Stan put out into the thick air that surrounded them. It was miserable. It was exactly what Craig wanted it to feel like.

 

“What makes you say that?” He decided to entertain Stan, wanting to see the smile that only bore pain and suffering instead of actual joy.

 

Craig was rewarded instead with a loud, obnoxious laugh as the other went to grab two more beers for them. There was no humor to the other, though, only an almost mocking tone that would undoubtably haunt Craig’s memories at every turn when he tried to sleep. Instead of forest green eyes that shown brightly, it was eyes that were like staring into a barren tundra. Lifeless and dead.

 

“You are boring,” Stan drawled. He moved from his spot at the end of the bed to instead pressing himself against Craig and the wall. It set Craig’s skin on fire, in the way that too much cold caused a biting burn to the skin, like it would have when Craig was younger and made snowballs with his own bare hands. “What do you even do for fun, Craig? What have you done since you’ve gotten here?”

 

Craig thought about the question, wondered exactly what he had been doing since finding himself at university, immersed in the lifestyle of people fretting over courses and putting in long hours in the libraries or lounge areas. He thought about how he only sat in lounges to avoid going to his room where his roommate was undoubtably laughing too loudly at the latest sitcom he was watching on Netflix. He thought about how while he was in the lounge, he didn’t talk to people, didn’t think about finding friends or finding people with common interests. Did he even have interests? Did he even have friends?

 

“I,” he paused, staring down at the opened beer in his hand as he tried to gather his thoughts to make a cohesive retort about how Stan knew nothing. About how Stan was just an apathetic asshole. Instead, his eyes went to stare into the blue abyss of winter. “You’re right.”

 

“I know, dude,” Stan hollered, his eyes squinting as he continued to laugh louder, harsher. “Do you even have any friends?”

 

It cut deeper than Craig realized the question would. He had Token, Jimmy, and Clyde. But they hadn’t texted him in the last month. Were they his friends? Did friends mean texts were exchanged consistently? Tricia kept tabs on him in the annoying way she did, mostly sending him pictures of Stripe, his Guinea pig he couldn’t bring with him. She also questioned what university was like, if he was enjoying his time. Often, he would leave her on read, because he didn’t quite know what to reply with. It didn’t stop her from constantly texting him, though. Maybe she was his friend.

 

Tweek Tweak was a whole other monster, the kind of monster that Craig wanted to allow to thrive inside his mind. It was simple communication, just memes Tweek found funny sent through text message threads or things that reminded the blonde of Craig. It was sweet, kindhearted, the exact way he wanted to preserve the memory of Tweek being until the day he died. Craig also left him on read, because he didn’t want to ruin Tweek’s happiness with his own comments about why he couldn’t find things funny that Tweek did. Why was he so broken that nothing made him smile but Tweek? The texts from the blonde were dying off, probably because of the lack of Craig responding, but they happened every few days.

 

“I thought not,” Stan remarked, his tone icing over as Craig could feel the frost emitting off the boy that pressed against his side. “That’s how we’re alike. We don’t have people in our lives.”

 

It was that moment that Craig’s phone vibrated in his pocket, which he was glad for. He could ignore the way his heart was wrenching at the knowledge of being just like Stan Marsh. It was why their heaviness bred into wallowing in their own inner turmoil. At least they had someone else to wallow with, Craig guessed. Pulling his phone out, he was surprised to see the notification that Tweek had messaged him. He opened the message and saw a picture of Tricia and Tweek together, holding Stripe in between them as they happily looked at the camera.

 

Craig knew that it was supposed to fill his heart with happiness, that the two people in his life that mattered to him more than anything were together and happy. Instead, it formed into the dark recesses of his mind as something terrible. Of course, they would be happy together. They would be happy together. They would look beautiful. It caused his breath to get caught in his throat and a heaviness in his chest at how gorgeous they were together. Together.

 

“Who are they?” Stan questioned, and Craig almost jumped because he didn’t even remember that the other was right next to him. “They look nice.”

 

“It’s my sister and my,” he paused as he tried to think about the proper word for Tweek, but nothing sounded quite right, “her friend.” He corrected.

 

Stan hummed in acknowledgement as he chugged the rest of his beer, apparently loosing interest at the confession of who was in the picture. They fell into silence again as Craig stared at the picture for another moment before he decided to shut his phone display off and tuck it back into his pants in defeat. It was why Craig was sitting here with a boy made of ice, turned jaded and defeated by life. They were birds of a feather. They were made to be surrounded in each other.

 

“You know, I used to have a friend, you probably know him,” Stan said, apparently feeling gracious enough to pull Craig out of the feeling of his own constricted heart, “his name’s Kyle Broflovski.”

 

The name was familiar, the same redhead that was in his graduating class and often was seen hanging out with Stan before the boy was uprooted from South Park. Craig wasn’t surprised by the fact that they fell out of contact, it was hard to stay connected with people that one didn’t see very often. Being moved away from the friends that were made in childhood probably never stuck very well. Life happened and people got busy.

 

“What happened to him?” Craig questioned, more out of feeling like that was what Stan wanted him to ask instead of wondering the question himself.

 

“We were friends for a long time, Denver isn’t that far away from South Park, you know. I’d go visit him during the weekends when I was at my dad’s, during the summer he’d come stay with me for a week or two. That went on for years, until junior year.” Stan started, and Craig swore that his tone could make any room drop fifteen degrees just because of how hallow and empty it sounded.

 

“During the summer after junior year, he went to my house and it was all good, it was _perfect_ ,” Stan said, spitting out the word as if it left a horrible taste in his mouth, “but then he found out. He found it all out. Kyle, he’s such a good guy. He looked me in the eyes and told me he threw everything away, that I was better than that. He told me I was making a mistake. I was filled with so much rage that I punched him square in the mouth. I felt like I was a ticking time bomb and I finally blew. I kept punching him until he was crying and begging for me to stop.”

 

Craig’s eyes were wide at the confession, and he wanted to leave. He wanted to stay away from the guy who admitted to assaulting someone. But, instead, he felt his mind sympathizing with the other. Stan was just so empty, so hallow, that it was as if this moment didn’t drive him to continue being violent, it caused him to give up entirely.

 

It had scared Craig, made him wonder if that was how he was going to end up. Having that fear of giving up so fully and entirely to live as a shell of his former self. Craig didn’t know exactly what his former self was, didn’t know if he had a former self that wasn’t filled with biting comments and critiques that were harsh and unforgiving. He wondered how long it would take before he could make a room drop fifteen degrees just by opening his mouth.

 

“Kyle, he isn’t the most patient dude around. He tries his hardest. But as he stood before me black, blue, and crying so hard, he told me I was fucked up. I was so fucked up that he packed up his shit and left. He refused to talk to me, even as I cried and begged for forgiveness. I drove him away, just like I drive everyone away,” Stan said, finally making eye contact with Craig and those icy eyes were glazed and haunted.

 

“That was the last friend I ever had.”

 

Craig didn’t know what really transpired after that, but before he knew it, he was splayed across the bed as he was being thrusted into. He wondered where his beer had fallen, but as he was getting dressed and felt the liquid on the carpet. The room smelt of sweat, sex, and desperation. Craig ignored the way that Stan shakily reached for an orange bottle of pills, ignored the way that he swallowed them dry and curled up uselessly on the bed.

 

“Craig,” Stan called, causing him to pause as his hand was on the doorknob, wanting to leave because he couldn’t fully wrap his head around what had even happened. “Will you be my friend?” The voice was so empty, so defeated, that it took a moment and some deep breathing that Craig didn’t think he was capable of in the situation before he could reply.

 

“Yeah, Stan, I’m your friend.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Craig walked on shaky legs back to his dorm, where he didn’t even bother to greet his roommate as he locked himself up in the bathroom. He turned on the shower, got undressed, and proceeded to vomit into the toilet. It was too much, as he walked into the shower and simply let the water cascade down his body. Fifteen minutes of hot water burning his skin, the water started turning frosty and unforgiving. Craig decided he deserved it. Another ten minutes before he turned off the water and put his boxers back on after drying himself.

 

“Rough night?” His roommate quipped as he finally emerged from the bathroom. He flipped the boy off before he decided it was time to lay in his bed. Laying down on the hard mattress, he wondered if this was what university was like. If this was how his entire higher education would go.

 

Craig didn’t find sleep very easy that night.

 

It never got easier; Craig found. Days turned into weeks that bled into a month of constantly finding company in misery with Stan. Alcohol and Vicodin were on the menu as they wallowed together. They found themselves finding company in intimacy and empty words of encouragement to each other. Craig would tell Stan he was better than Kyle, and Stan would tell Craig that he would find himself soon. The only thing Craig found was skipping classes and looking at his grades plummeting to abysmal marks.

 

The worse part was that Craig didn’t find himself caring, he only found himself being enamored with the way his hands shook as he would stroke Stan’s hair or shiver at the fact that Stan finally complimented him on the way his ribs stuck out as a result of his liquid and pill diet. Their glossy eyes would be icy and cold, unforgiving in a way that caused Craig to find release in the most intoxicating ways. There was never reality when it came to locking themselves in Stan’s room for the night, there was never a constant need to put on a performance of being alright when it came to Stan. It completed his heart in the most dysfunctional way.

 

Reality didn’t come until his phone vibrated one faithful night, he found himself in the misery of his own company. He wanted to ignore it, thinking it was just a text, but instead it continued to vibrate to alert him it was a phone call. Groaning and so, so thankful that his roommate was fucking off to do whatever he did, he hit accept without even caring who was calling.

 

“Hello?” He slurred, feeling so, so tired but knowing sleep was never on the horizon with his heart pounding as fast as it did.

 

“Craig?” The voice was like honey and bittersweet coffee and it almost brought tears of joy to Craig’s bleak life as he knew immediately who it was. Tweek Tweak was calling him.

 

“Yeah, yeah, what’s up?” Craig asked, trying to make his voice sound more alive, because he couldn’t let on the fact that his life was fucked. That he was fucked. University sucked, his grades sucked, and he only spent time getting fucked up or being fucked by blue winter eyes.

 

“I just, uh, haven’t heard from you in a while! Tricia hasn’t either,” Tweek explained, and the pang was dulled by the alcohol that coursed through Craig’s veins. Of course, Tricia and Tweek were talking more frequently. Of course, they found company in each other. They were gorgeous together. They were pure and unattainable four hours away in South Park. It was for the best, his mind supplied, because they would be better without him.

 

“I’ve been busy with, um, biology,” Craig retorted lamely, knowing that it was more of a question of when his professor would be sending him an email that he was no longer apart of the class. It was always a battle with himself to get up to go to class, but instead he found himself texting Stan to see what the other was doing that day. Stan always had time for him. Stan never was busy. Stan was going to fail his courses as well; they both knew it.

 

“Yeah, um,” Tweek started off, and Craig could just imagine the way the blonde was probably gripping his hair tightly or maybe his dark green button down. It was refreshing to get icy blue eyes out of his mind. “Are you doing okay? You, _gah_ , sound a little off.”

 

Craig’s heart was pounding so loud in his ears by the question that he didn’t know if he had responded or not. He couldn’t hear anything, but the way blood was pumping in his ears and he tried to keep his eyes focused on the ceiling before him. It scared him, being alone, only having himself and his thoughts. If he was with Stan, the fears and loathing subsided to a dull roar in his mind and he had to take a calming breath because he wasn’t alone. He was talking to Tweek Tweak.

 

“I’m doing okay,” he lied, because that was all he knew how to do in South Park, “I’ve just been tired recently. What about you?”

 

“I’m good, I’m good. I found out I do have a knack for business,” Tweek said, his voice sounding so refreshing from the bleakness that Stan’s own tone held. “My dad’s really proud of me. He told me that he knew I could do it.”

 

“Yeah, are you going to be a big CEO before I know it?” Craig asked, and found himself invested in the conversation instead of just asking questions that he felt obligated to ask with Stan. Through the alcohol coursing through him was depleting and for once he found like he could think about what was going on.

 

“That’s _way too much pressure_!” Tweek squalled, and it brought nothing but joy to Craig’s heart at the familiarity of the tone.

 

“Can I ask you a question, Tweek?” Craig asked, finding his thoughts going to Stan and everything that he had learned about the jet-black haired boy.

 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

 

“Do you know Kyle Broflovski?”

 

“Kyle? Uh, I mean, I knew him more in senior year, yeah!” Tweek provided and seemed to think for a moment before he questioned, “what about him?”

 

“What is he up to?” Craig asked, because he wanted to know. He needed to know what came after Stan Marsh.

 

“He’s studying law at Yale! He was so excited when he got accepted, he called me and wouldn’t stop talking about it even when he was packing to go,” Tweek said, sounding both proud and giddy for his friend’s accomplishments. Craig wondered if Tweek would sound that way if Craig did something that made him proud. “Why are you asking, though? You didn’t really, uh, talk to Kyle.”

 

“Yeah, I just met an old friend of his here,” Craig explained, not going into detail because if he remembered everything too vividly he would find himself leaning over the toilet again. It brought a sickness to him.

 

“Oh! What a small world,” Tweek chirped. There was fumbling on the other end for a moment before he spoke again, “are you really okay, though? You don’t sound like yourself.”

 

Craig wondered just how transparent he seemed to Tweek. He wondered if the boy was wondering where his façade of being okay was, or if he knew deep down that this was worse than his fake apathetic appearance. Craig was wallowing so much in his own sadness, that the lines were blurred between whether he was even alright or not. Craig wondered if Kyle found himself with the same affliction with being Stan’s only friend for a decade. Craig wondered if Kyle truly was better than him for deciding to leave.

 

“I’m just,” he started, wondering what the words he wanted to say were, “I don’t think university is for me.”

 

“Oh,” Tweek said, sounding slightly off put by the blunt remark. “Well, university isn’t for everyone. I mean, look at me!”

 

“Tweek, you had something to fall back on, I have nothing,” Craig stated, hating how deprecating he sounded to the sunshine on the other end. Craig realized just how long he had been in darkness by this phone call, and it caused him to recoil into himself.

 

“Don’t say that! My dad is looking for people to work at the shop, we’re probably going to open our Denver location by next spring, which means that we will need more staff than we have right now. Don’t think of it like a, uh, permanent fix, but more of something to do while you figure out what you want to do.”

 

“I’m failing all my classes.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m failing them, all of them. I haven’t been to classes since the first two weeks.”

 

“Craig,” Tweek whispered, sounding both sympathetic and saddened by the words, “what’s going on?”

 

“I met my match here,” Craig said, yearning for the smell of sweat and despair that Stan provided. “I don’t know if I can stand to be here anymore.”

 

“Come home, Craig,” Tweek said, “it doesn’t sound like you’re doing okay.”

 

“I’ll be a disappointment.”

 

“I’m not disappointed,” Tweek said, and for once it was said with so much confidence that it nearly made Craig breathless. When had Tweek become so sure of himself? When was the dynamic of Craig talking Tweek down from his fits reversed to Tweek talking Craig down from the abyss that lurked inside of him?  


“You’ve grown a lot since senior year already,” Craig said, trying to get some light into the conversation, to feel warmth that wasn’t caused by ice.

 

“My dad is very supportive,” Tweek said, laughing nervously as if Craig was belittling him instead of trying to build him up. It caused a pang in his chest, but he tried to ignore it.

 

“I like it,” Craig responded, feeling his mouth move faster than his brain.

 

“Craig, come home. Stripe misses you,” Tweek said, the smile radiating through the phone that reminded Craig feeling the sun engulf his entire being.

 

“Yeah, I think I should.”

 

“I have to go, I have an early shift in the morning, but I hope you think about what we’re talking about.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon, okay?”

 

“Alright, Craig. I’ll see you.”

 

With that, the call ended, and Craig found himself engulfed in darkness once more. His thoughts were racing, and he craved alcohol and Vicodin in a way that he didn’t know he needed it. When had his life spiraled into this? When was the last time he had smiled? When was the last time he had truly felt happiness? It was suffocating, in a way that only the conversation with Tweek could possibly every remind him of. It was as if he was finally awake, finally acknowledging the path he was taking. It wasn’t the way he wanted his life to go.

 

Two days later, he was standing in Stan’s room, but with something akin to meekness. His brain flashed with images of what Kyle could have possibly looked like that summer after junior year, black, blue, and crying. It was unsettling in his brain, and he knew that potentially he was going to end up the same way on his way back to South Park. The previous day he was told through email that he was withdrawn from the four classes he was taking that semester, that he had flunked out of university. At the bottom of the notice, there was a date that said day of eviction from his dorm.

 

“What’s got you acting so weird?” Stan questioned, looking at Craig with icy blue eyes that Craig once wished would worship him. Now he only wanted them to never look at him again. “Do you want some?” He questioned, motioning to the six pack of beers that were perched on top of the minifridge. Only one remained. It was another bender for Stan, he was sure.

 

“No, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving.”

 

“What?” Stan asked, sounding taken aback and put off guard. He tilted his head to the side as he laughed in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“I’m going back home,” Craig said, sounding much surer of himself than he felt. He thought of Tweek’s encouraging texts to help him through this, instead of the doubts and insecurities that raced through his head as he stared at Stan.

 

“What the fuck?” Stan asked, and it was then that the icy eyes turned into icicles, almost as if they were trying to stab into Craig with intent. “You’re not going anywhere? The semester isn’t even over, it’s not even winter break!”

 

“I was dropped from all my classes. I was told I have until the end of this week to leave the campus. I’m going home.”

 

“Going home? To what?” Stan asked, his eyes frostbitten and angry as he sat up straighter, looking like a cobra ready to strike, “to a place filled with losers who don’t care about you? I care about you, Craig! I’m the only one who understands!”

 

“I’m going home, Stan, I just wanted you to know. I’m leaving,” Craig said, turning on his heel as quickly as he could because he knew if he stayed, his confidence would slip and he would only find himself back on that bed. The thought made him shiver in repulsion.

 

“Well, fuck yourself, Craig Tucker. You’re nothing,” Stan belittled, huffing as Craig opened the door. Craig was saying goodbye to allowing himself to simply wallow. He refused to let himself become like Stan Marsh. He refused to allow Stan the pleasure of taking another person down with him.

 

The ride to South Park was quiet as his mother simply stared at the road that was in front of them. They didn’t talk, didn’t even greet each other. The disappointment in his mother was obvious, but he knew that she didn’t know what to say. One look at her son obviously made her not want to degrade him for his failures. He knew that she didn’t understand, but she wasn’t a monster.

 

“There’s always Denver University,” she spoke, her words sounding awkward in the silence that took over them. Craig didn’t bother with a response as he continued to stare out the car window. He had nothing to say, nothing to add. He just couldn’t be at the university anymore.

 

He was haunted with the image of Stan in his dorm room, downing the pills and the alcohol that littered his dorm room. Craig knew that there was no reasoning with the boy. He was too far gone. He could only hope that he wasn’t that far gone as well. It did fill him with a bittersweet happiness that at least he wasn’t as bad as other people in the world.

 

(Craig walked into the brightly lit coffeehouse that evening, feeling as if he was a ghost of his past self as he knew that he wasn’t worthy anymore to come into the light that was produced within the walls of the business.

 

It hadn’t changed at all, instead was exactly how he left it in August. He found himself making direct eye contact with the one person he both needed to see and feared to encounter again. Tweek’s eyes brightened with recognition, but his smile was off, it seemed only saddened.

 

“Craig, I missed you,” he confessed, walking around the counter and meeting his friend. Craig didn’t realize what was happening before arms were wrapping around him in a tight hug. It felt like heaven and he couldn’t stop himself from putting his own arms around the blonde. Safety was what it felt like.

 

“I’m glad you came back.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

 

Craig knew that was a fact. He also knew that the same could be said about him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading again. I'm sorry Stan for making you this way. I'm sorry Craig for doing this to you. I'm thankful to write Tweek as someone who learns how to become a confident bitch.
> 
> I'm going away for the week, so I won't be writing anything until next week because I'll be busy. But just know that in next comes Kenny and oh BOY is he a trip and a half.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, thanks for reading this legit obsession of mine. I have great plans for this work. I haven't written in about two years so this was a nice thing to come back to. I am already planning on writing more and getting into the swing of things. 
> 
> This story is based off of "A Constant State of Ohio" by the band Lincoln and will be five chapters as the EP is also five songs long.
> 
> Tell me if I missed any triggers or things, this story is not for the faint of heart and will only become darker as Craig finds himself spiraling down into an abyss (just like the album lol)


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